“I can’t stay. There is no redemption for me. I lied to her. Over and over, I lied to her.”
He purses his lips. “Yes, you’ve made quite a habit of that, haven’t you?”
“A habit?” I snort. “I’ve done more than spin a lie or two, old man. You know this.”
“I know what you’ve done,” he agrees. “But I also know what’s in your heart. Russia. Japan. All the lifetimes she can’t remember. You’ve been her guardian angel. Imagine that.”
“Tell your god, then, I’m waiting for my absolution.” I rise and throw my arms and wings open to the heavens. “Well? Here I am. I’m ready.”
Of course, nothing happens. The night sky is silent and impassive.
I drop my arms. “It appears what’s in my heart is inadequate.”
“She’s not the only one plagued by demons,” he mutters.
“Enough talk. Go away, old man. It’s too late for me.”
“You sure about that?” His endless patience radiates off of him as strong and vibrant as the blue-white aura. “Tomorrow, at the wedding. Take her in your arms. Dance with her. Hold her and tell her the truth. Stop erasing her damn memory. Stop erasing you from her mind, because no matter how hard you try, you can’t purge yourself from her heart.”
I cast my gaze to the ground. “I can. There is a way.”
“Oblivion?” He shakes his head gravely. “That is not an answer, son. No answer at all.”
“Then tell me what to do, priest. How does it end?”
“With your death, of course.”
I bite off a curse and spread my wings to take flight.
“Casziel,” he says, arresting me with the gentle authority imbued in him, the same that was there four thousand years ago. “What is death but a new beginning? And every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.” He cocks his head. “I think I heard that in a song once.”
I fume with impatience, unwilling to let hope take root in the blackened soil of my soul. There will be no more beginnings for me. Only an end. A final end.
He moves off the wall toward me, his aura growing brighter, hotter. Searing my eyes. If I touch him, he’ll burn me. Because I’m damned and he’s pure. His gaze bores into me. Dark blue eyes like Lucy’s. Like Li’ili’s. The deep blue of lapis lazuli, the divine gemstone of Sumer.
Even then he was holy. And she…she was a gift from the gods.
“You were always so hard on yourself, my boy,” he says. “And stubborn? My word! But good too. Honorable down to your bones. Hammurabi tried to torture it out of you. Ashtaroth tried to burn it out of you. The others…they’ve tried to convince you it’s too late. There’s no such thing. Remember that.” He tips his fedora at me with a grin and says in an odd voice, “Here’s looking at you, kid.”
Then he’s gone, and I’m left alone, the night thick and black but for the stars. Pinpricks of light. Like tiny spots of hope in a canopy of darkness that stretches to forever.
My heart swells with every emotion I’d been trying to block out. A barricade that had been falling to pieces, bit by bit over the last days with Lucy. Her father’s words give me hope that I hadn’t earned.
But maybe he was right and all I had to do was love her…
Part III
What would an angel say? The devil wants to know. —Fiona Apple
Nineteen
I gasped awake, anxiety boiling in my stomach, as if I’d overslept and missed something monumental.
The wedding…
I jerked to sitting and glanced at my alarm clock. Not quite seven a.m. I slumped against my pillows. I had hours yet. But a fuzzy, hungover feeling made my head heavy. I took in my empty apartment. Sunlight streamed in through the windows, over Edgar, my wilting houseplant. I was in my bed, but last night I’d been on the couch…
Hadn’t I?